The landscape of an african soul - Tuli Circle

Written by: Tim Marks

As dawn peers over the edge of the sky,
In a space of the lonely kopjes and cacti.
Where God roamed to the edge of a scorched wilderness,
and stared into the vast land of nothingness.

HERE, STANDS A PLACE ARID AND BONE DRY
WHERE ROOT AND SHOOT SHRIVEL AND DIE.

HERE IS WHERE HE FORMED ROCKY OUTCROPS AND SANDY STRANDS
TULI IS IT’S NAME.

IN THIS FORTRESS OF SOLITUDE, WHERE WIND ROLES A GUST
FORMATION OF BOULDERS, PEBBLES, AND DUST.

The springs of vitality forced from the ground below
Sweet honey dew, taste of life, transforms this dusty bowl

Where quenched thirsts were satisfied, 
Hunger for food became starvation and slowly crippled the dreary 
Only the toughest would survive, no room for the weary

As time pasted, it forgot this flat open bush
where grass and shrub became razor sharp and prickly scrub.
harsh and foreboding.

The Shashe river snaking through the sandy ground
with dust and rubble on the fortress mound 

So men came to conquer and forge his own path,
What madness is this, why was he so daft.
But, when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object
History is written.

Wheels of progress move steadily forward
Rocks being used to build roads, bridges, houses, and prisons
So hard, tough, and cold these objects are to house the idea of future dreams and missions.

The stubborn will to settle, 
made peoples focus rock solid.
But as time marches out and onward,
the memories and sentiments pasted through like a gentle breeze. 

All that is left is the forgotten memories, graves, and relics of buildings old,
Hunters, Riders, and Voortrekkers cry out from the dust and sand,
that fortress of Pioneers, Tuli.